


The Wizarding World War

by cartographe



Series: The Wizarding World War [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Next-Gen, Salem Witches Institute, Swenett University, The Gobi Academy, international wizarding warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartographe/pseuds/cartographe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A little more than twenty years ago, I sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the students, and I listened to my headmaster give me some of the most frightful news that I had ever received." Neville Longbottom looked down at the Gryffindor students he governed and sighed heavily. "Tonight I must do the same for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue  
Zhuzhou, China  
January 18, 1978

The streets of Zhuzhou were basked in flickering firelight. My mother insists that it never happened, but I remember that night. It was one of the best nights of my life. I was only seven years old then, still a little girl, and did not know much of the world. That night I learned much more than I could ever have imagined.

It was late into the night when they reached our part of Zhuzhou. Their loud cheers and shouts tickled my ears and I awoke with a start, my eyes flickering open to see red shadows dancing on my bedroom walls. My first thought was that our small home was on fire, but then I looked out the window and saw them. Our house was on the village square, which is where they were beginning to gather. I climbed out of bed and walked to the window, squatting so that my eyes barely cleared the bottom edge.

They were dressed in robes, colored brilliantly with reds and oranges, with floating torches high above their heads and short wooden sticks that shot fireworks. I gasped for breath as one man directed a shower of falling stars in the skies above. They seemed to be celebrating.

Their leader, wearing a golden mask while the others wore red, stood on the fountain walls.  
"My friends!" He held on to one of the stone dragons sticking out of the fountain and swung around to face the crowd. "Tonight, our time of glory is upon us!"

Their triumphant shouts overtook the man's voice, and he waited for them to quiet.

"Tonight we join our comrades in Beijing, where we will take hold of our neighbors' hands and conquer the Europeans with a speed and efficiency they have never seen before! There they sit in their castles ignorantly passing laws, restricting our livelihoods, sure of their ultimate power. But tonight, under Lin Wang's guidance, we shall prevail! Freedom, for each wizard who fights back!"

My older sister ran into the room, grabbing my elbow and pulling me into the hall, "Suri, get away from the window! What are you doing? They'll see you!"

"They're planning a war!"

"Suri, I'm sure it's not a war you have to worry about. They are not our kind."

"But they are! They're talking about joining hands with Beijing to overtake the Europeans and-"

"No, Suri. I mean they're not normal," she looked around before dropping to her knees in front of me. She took my arms and shook me a little as she spoke. "Suri, they have a power. They've been floating things around and destroying things with little sticks and-"

"Kiya, I'm afraid!"

"Suri, go back to bed. They won't notice us. They're not here to bother us."

And then, everything was silent. I could hear my father shifting in his bed, the mats and blankets rustling with his movement. He hadn't seemed to notice the riot outside. Kiya and I ran to my window.

"Kiya, they're gone."

"Suri, go to bed. Don't mention this to anyone tomorrow at school." And with that, she left.

In the morning on my walk to the schoolhouse, nothing in the square was amiss. I looked to Kiya to see if she noticed.

"The flowers look pretty today, don't you think?" she smiled sweetly, giving no hint that she was thinking about what had happened the night before. Maybe I had dreamed it.

I turned back and was silent the rest of the walk.


	2. The Hogwarts Express

Chapter One  
Hogwarts  
September 1, 2017

As the Hogwarts Express flew along the rails above a Scottish forest, Victoire Weasley sighed deeply, her elbow resting on the small windowsill and her thumb absentmindedly brushing against her lips. If she hadn’t been heading back to Hogwarts as a seventh year, she didn’t know if she would have boarded. Nearly each and every friend she had made had graduated in the spring, and after finally telling Teddy Lupin that she loved him mere seconds before boarding the train, she found herself traveling away from far more things than she was traveling towards. A sound jolted her from her thoughts and her elbow slipped from the windowsill, hitting the wall hard.

“Bloody HELL Rose,” Victoire rubbed her smarting elbow, “could you be any less ladylike?”

Rose Weasley had swung open the compartment’s door with a bang, thinking it was empty. She sat down near the door anyway. “My mum says there’s no certain way to act like a lady. Manners aren’t sex-specific.”

Victoire huffed and leaned back against the cushioned bench, taking a second before she turned again to her cousin. “Why’ve you just now come in? Where have you been?”

Rose blew her hair out of her face and kicked her legs around a bit, feeling much more like a child than she had anticipated she would on her first train ride to Hogwarts. “I was sitting with the boys but they’re rude and tiresome, and Lucy and Anne wouldn’t let me join them. So I went looking for an empty compartment but there are none, apparently. I didn’t see you in here.”

Victoire watched as her younger cousin hastily explained herself. She looked flustered, which was something Victoire often felt but never looked, thanks to the traces of veela blood running through her veins. Tall, blonde, and graceful, Victoire and her siblings often looked slightly out of place around their cousins, but only because of their aesthetics. They had all practically been raised together, aunts and uncles acting as extra mums and dads if the real ones were away or even just in the next room. The Weasley-Potter clan was large but smothering-ly close, and Victoire often wanted to murder the members of her family, but there were the occasional moments when she was reminded of how comforting they were to have around. For instance, now, when Victoire was feeling incredibly lonely, even her eleven-year-old Rosie made her feel a few measures better.

After a while of silence, Victoire looked back up to Rose, who had her nose firmly settled into a new edition of Hogwarts, A History. “Are you nervous, Rosie?”

Rose, who had clearly not been too engrossed, replied immediately. “No.”

Victoire smiled and sat up straight, unwrapping a pumpkin pasty she had bought off the trolley earlier in the day. “Not at all? I was very nervous on my first ride to Hogwarts. Kept having dizzy spells. Ran into Teddy in the hallway and was sick all over his shoes.” Victoire smiled.

Rose peered out over her book. “And he still snogs you?”

“Rose!” Victoire threw the pasty wrapping at the redhead, laughing. “Yes, he still snogs me” she replied quietly.

Rose put her book down and moved down the bench until she was directly in front of Victoire, who handed her the last few bites of the pasty. “Have you snogged many boys?”

Victoire narrowed her eyes a bit as she dusted any crumbs off her hands. “Why do you ask?”

Rose talked with her mouth full. “Earlier when James was re-enacting how you were snogging with Teddy, Fred said that you have snogged almost every boy at Hogwarts.”

Victoire was about to respond with a rather nasty opinion of Fred when the compartment door slid open again. In the doorway were two additional Weasleys; Lucy and Roxanne.

“Anne! We were just discussing your revolting brother.”

“I’m certainly not claiming him, the git just stole my last ten sickles. The rest of my money is back in my trunk, do either of you have any? We want to buy something off the trolley before we get to the station.”

Rose emptied her pockets of a few knuts and handed them to Anne.

“Thanks, love.” Anne and Lucy retreated from the compartment and slid the door closed.

“You don’t have to be so nice to them, Rosie, especially when they’re often mean to you.” Victoire said as she pulled her school robes out of her carry-on bag. “They’re hardly a year older, they’ve got no reason to be so pretentious.”

Rose shrugged, taking her robes out as well. “Lucy’s nice. I just want them to think I’m interesting. I think they’re interesting.”

“They’re as interesting as a pile of doorknobs, Rosie.” Victoire grabbed Rose’s long black hat and fit it firmly onto her head. “Don’t worry, we really only wear these on more formal occasions.”

________________________________

James Potter was happy to be starting his third year at Hogwarts. He had come to love nothing more than the great castle stocked with potential victims (his fellow students) and life-defining challenges (evading professors). In fact, during summer holidays he most often found himself dreaming up ways to better himself during his time at the fine institution. Conveniently, his mother had grown tired of repairing the structural damage he and his cousin Louis had repetitively caused to the third floor of the modest Potter estate and had relinquished the rarely-used guest house to them, baring fires, explosives, and anything illegal.

After reaching the Hogsmeade station, James left the train in search of an empty carriage to take up to the castle. His father had told him of the thestrals that pulled the carriages ever since he was a baby, as part of the fairy-tale that was Hogwarts. None of his friends seemed to believe him, even when he was obviously petting them (though he couldn’t see them himself).

Climbing aboard a carriage with Louis, Fred, and Frank Longbottom, James listened for the soft snorts and shifting hooves from the thestrals. He always thought that he heard them, but he didn’t know if it wasn’t wishful thinking. James never wished that someone would die so he could see the thestrals, but he sometimes thought that if someone had to die, it would be nice if they went ahead and kicked the bucket in front of him, just so he could find out what the creatures really looked like.

Louis elbowed James as he sat down. “What’re you so quiet for, hm? Thinkin ‘bout your mum already?”

James rolled his eyes at his friend. “Thinking about your mum is more like it.”

Fred gave his cousin a thumbs up and a grin for the comment from across the carriage before going back to a private conversation with Frank.

“Gross! She’s your aunt, you know.”

“Yeah but she’s half Veela, it’d be insulting to her beauty to not think about it.”

Louis shook his head in dismay. “What do you suppose Fred and Frank are up to?” he asked James as he retrieved an opened bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans from his knapsack and spilling a few on the floor.

James shrugged and reached down to the floor for a green bean that had fallen from the bag. “Two knuts for you to eat it.” The bet was an unlucky one, but common. Strangely colored Every Flavor Beans were a constant source of amusement and disgust. James was sure to lose those two knuts, but Louis was also sure to experience a highly unpleasant taste in his mouth from now until after the Sorting, which was a good hour away. Louis took the bean (and the knuts) and popped it into his mouth.

“I swear on Dumbledore’s pearly grave this is piss flavored.” Louis held his hand to his stomach like he was going to be sick.

Before James could even laugh, Fred moved to sit between them and popped James on the knee with a piece of parchment.

“D’you want to know what I found?”

“Was it your virginity?”

Fred hung his head in disappointment. “I swear, every time I forget you two are only thirteen you open your mouths and remind me.”

James blushed a little, but the comment didn’t truly sting. “What did you find?”

Fred sat back and opened the parchment across all three of their laps. He took out his wand and tapped the middle. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Slowly a message and an image etched its way onto the paper.

“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder’s Map.” James looked up at his older cousin. “What the bloody hell is a Marauder’s Map?”

Fred nodded towards the map. “It’s a map. Of Hogwarts.”

“Of Hogwarts.”

“Of Hogwarts, that tracks the whereabouts of every inhabitant and shows us the entrance to every single secret passageway.”

James’s eyes widened. “Hogwarts has secret passageways?”

“Surely you’ve found at least one? What kind of prankster are you, not having found at least the one under the Whomping Willow? The one behind the One-Eyed Witch? Seriously, James, I’m ashamed.” Fred shook his head as he deactivated the map (Mischief Managed), folded the map and stuck it back into his pocket, preparing for the carriage’s halt at the castle doors.

James hopped out of the carriage behind Frank and hurried to catch up with Fred. “Where’d you find the map?”

Fred scratched his neck. “I nicked it.”

“From where?”

“I was looking in Uncle Harry’s office for a quill, and this was sitting in a drawer.”

“You nicked it from my Dad?”

“Seems like he has a few more secrets he’s keeping from us!”

James’s eyes furrowed in confusion, but he stopped asking questions and went on into the Great Hall, even forgetting to wave at Uncle Neville as he passed by.

It was a long while before the first-years filed into the hall, even more of them than usual soaking wet from falling into the lake. Hagrid looked annoyed as he lead them up to the front of the room before sitting down and throwing back the glass of mead waiting for him.

James and his friends didn’t pay much attention to the sorting until they began to reach the last half of the alphabet, where the P’s and W’s were.

Neville Longbottom, who was the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts and their Herbology Professor as well as their adopted Uncle, was calling out the names.

“Potter, Albus”

James looked up from the Gryffindor table (as did the rest of the Weasley-Potter family) and craned his neck to get a good view of his little brother, who was looking quite green in the face as he approached the stool. Albus shut his eyes the second the sorting hat touched his head. A few seconds later, the results were out.

“RAVENCLAW!”

The Ravenclaw table cheered, and the Weasley-Potters did too, after only a few moments of adjustment. James watched his brother trot over to the table, looking terrified. Dominique Weasley, their only other family member to not be in Gryffindor, moved over to let James sit down beside her. She ruffled his hair, being uncharacteristically, if only momentarily, affectionate. James sighed and then laughed, leaning over to Louis to whisper as “Roberts, Terry” was called.

“I told Al there was nothing to worry about. There was no way he had the guts to be a Slytherin.”

Louis chuckled, but nodded towards the group of first-years still standing. “Look, Rose is up next in line.”

James looked up in time to see “Scourgum, Robin” hop off of the stool and walk over to the cheering Hufflepuffs.

“Weasley, Rose”

Rose calmly took her seat on the sorting stool and took a deep breath as the sorting hat was placed on her head. Seconds passed, and then minutes, and James was starting to get nervous for his cousin.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The hall froze. A short but incredibly awkward silence lingered in the hall, which to Rose felt like hours. James looked around at the friends and family members closest to him as the Slytherins began to cheer. Every Weasley and Potter sat with an open mouth, bodies stretching to get the best view of Rose as she slowly made her way to the wrong table.


	3. The Gobi Academy

Chapter Two  
Qinhuangdao, China  
September 1, 2017

Kiya Wen walked along the boardwalk in the port city of Qinhuangdao, China, across the Bohai Sea from the wizarding village of Xiaolongshan Island, where she lived. She was in Qinhuangdao on official CMA business. Her husband, Gao Wen, was Head of the Department of Non-Magical Interaction within the Chinese Magical Authority.

Her thin red and black robes attracted little attention as she walked through the streets. What did attract attention, however, was her demeanor. She was nothing like a stormy cloud but every little bit like an earthquake. Her confidence was unmatched along the boardwalk as she stared straight ahead, keeping a quick, steady pace. After a long while, much longer than she had anticipated, she stopped at an alleyway and turned to walk down it. She knocked on the first door to the left, painted an electric blue with a smug yellow smiling face near eye-level. She went to knock a second time, but the door was pulled open.

“Mrs. Wen?” asked the aging man who opened the door. Kiya smiled.

“Mr. Chin.” She nodded and stepped into the apartment as he granted her entrance.

Inside she was greeted with a pristine atrium, which led to a just as tidy – if dated – kitchen. Mr. Wen took her through to the sitting room where they joined two women who were, presumably, his wife and daughter. They both stood to greet her and in their eyes she glimpsed a haze as she held their hands. She sat, trying to remember the amount of times that Gao had mentioned they’d been obliviated. Looking back at Mr. Wan – where, yes, she found a haze there, as well – she gave a small bow of thanks before the four all sat down on stiff couches.

“Thank you for meeting with me today.”

Mrs. Chin spoke first. “It is our honor.” She briefly turned to smile at her daughter beside her. “When Jun was invited to your school … well, we weren’t sure about it. To be honest, we’d never heard of it before. But after our research, we are embarrassed to say that we overlooked it when applying.”

Kiya nodded once, her dark red lips forming a thin smile on her face. Occasionally, lying to the parents was a difficult and guilty task.

“Like the letter said, we would be joyful to have Jun in one of our many programs. Do you have any questions for me?”

Mr. and Mrs. Chin exchanged looks before shaking their heads. “We thought we would, but after reading the website…” Mrs. Chin trailed off.

Kiya smiled, glad that her visit in the apartment was already nearing its’ end. “I’m glad we could provide you with all of the necessary information. Now,” she turned to the young girl, Jun, and smiled. “Are you ready for a visit?”

Jun, a chubby girl with dark red hair and a smile that reached her eyes, nodded enthusiastically. She was obviously quite willing to make her parents proud by attending a prestigious school.

Kiya and Jun said their goodbyes and stepped out of the apartment shortly after. Jun, with a weekend bag in tow, followed happily in silence as they walked on down the boardwalk. She frowned, however, when Kiya made a turn into the next alley.

“Are we visiting someone else?”

“No.” Kiya could feel the apprehension bubbling under the surface of the cheerful young girl. At fifteen, she wasn’t unobservant or blissful in her actions. At fifteen, like most young girls her age, she was careful. Calculative.

Kiya stopped halfway through the alley, satisfied that they were far enough away from passers-by, though there weren’t that many to begin with at this time of day.

“Jun, I want you to take my hand, and I don’t want you to let go, no matter what happens. Do you understand me? This is very important.” Kiya spoke softly but directly. Jun nodded, but looked as if she wanted to ask at least a dozen questions. In fact, she looked quite scared. Kiya’s gaze at the young girl softened, and she smiled before pulling out her wand. “You’re safe, I promise.”

Jun looked quizzically at the wand, but Kiya took her firmly by the hand and tapped her wand softly on her own head. She apparated away, pulling Jun along behind her.

__________________________________

Kiya and Jun landed at the gates of Gobi Academy, at the base of Ikh Bogd Uul. Jun stumbled away from Kiya and retched beside a tall bush. Kiya grimaced, dutifully assisting the girl with a calming charm.

“It’s alright, you’ll get used to it.”

Jun stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, which in turn was wiped on the seat of her pants. She glared at Kiya, untrusting and afraid. “What exactly is it that I will be getting used to.”

Kiya smiled kindly, familiar with this part of the interaction. “Magic.”

Jun shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Come along.” Kiya gestured to the academy’s gates, beyond which was a long winding path through the forest at the bottom of the mountain.

Jun didn’t move. “I don’t know what is happening. I’d like to go home. I don’t want to see your school.”

“Trust me,” Kiya laughed, “you’ll want to see this. If, at the end, you want to go home, I’ll take you. But first you must come with me.” She stared at the stubborn girl warily, “Jun, you have taken the trip. Now you must see it through.”

Jun sighed heavily and took a lasting look at the lake behind them. Finally, she nodded, grabbing her bag off the ground and starting off towards the gates.

The walk up to the academy took a half hour by foot. Normally, students arrived at the gates and were taken up to the school by buggy, but Kiya thought the Granians that the school employed to carry the buggies might be too much of a shock. Muggles had never seen flying horses, after all. 

Halfway up the steep, winding road, Jun finally spoke. “So what you’re trying to tell me is that this is a school for magic.”

Perceptive, Kiya thought, a bit meanly. “Yes.”

“As in, wands and spells and charms and curses.”

“Hexes.” Kiya corrected.

“What?”

“Hexes. What you’re thinking of as a curse is called a hex.”

“Hexes.”

“That’s right.”

They continued on in silence. Kiya occasionally glanced over at the girl, but her stony face gave way for no emotion to be found.

Soon the tree-lined path gave way to a larger dirt road. Clear of the trees, Jun stopped in her tracks, mouth wide.

The Gobi Academy stood tall against the backdrop of the craggy grey mountain range. The traditional Mongolian structure grew from the ground in several different directions; to the sides, to the back, and up against the mountainsides, even into what might have been caves at one point. The academy seemed to grow from the mountain itself, stretching its legs along the base. Kiya had to admit, even she still found it impressive.

Kiya picked up her pace and waited for Jun to catch up before speaking again. “Welcome to the Gobi Academy,” she began, adopting a rather official tone. “Students attend from age fifteen to age twenty-three, beginning in their first year and ending in their eighth. Students live here from October first to July twentieth-

“You mean to say that I could do magic here. I could learn it.” Jun interrupted, stopping Kiya in her tracks. Kiya smiled somewhat coldly.

“My girl, you could do magic anywhere. You’re a witch, are you not?”

Jun frowned. “I’m not a witch, I’m- I’m regular.”

Kiya rolled her eyes, linked her own arm with the young girls’, and directed them inside the academy.

“I’d like to tell you a story while we walk.” Kiya intended to take her on quite the roundabout route to the headmistresses’ office. The interior of the academy, dark wood and pastel patterns, ancient stonework and black onyx detailing, mesmerized Jun on their journey.

“Once, when I was your age, I lived in a village with my mother and my father and my sister. When I was fifteen, a man came to visit me, much as I visited you today. He brought me to the school for a visit and walked me down this exact corridor.” She glanced at Jun as they turned a corner and began up a narrow spiral staircase to the second level. “I was scared, to be sure, but I also understood that this was important. I knew that this power that I had always felt – this knowledge I had always had – was something different than I imagined. It was simpler than I had ever anticipated. It was magic.”

Kiya lead Jun through the hall of portraits, moving portraits, which the girl shrunk away from.

“Magic is exhilarating. Magic is a part of you that you cannot deny. I came here, just like you will. I learned the rules. My sister came as well. My parents are maguo, as yours are.”

“Maguo?”

“Non-magical people.”

Jun looked slightly insulted, but her curiosity won out. “Will they know what I am doing here? Will they know about magic?”

Kiya’s face softened as they stopped in front of the headmistress’s office doors.

“No, they won’t, Jun. They can never know.”

Jun nodded solemnly, as if she expected this answer.

__________________________________

Later that afternoon Kiya found herself sitting peacefully in her own living room, enjoying a cup of tea and the rare treat of a book. At half past five she heard the door swing open and her two youngest children run in through it, arguing all the way. She stood to meet them in the kitchen, where her family seemed to gravitate towards at all hours of the day.

“It’s called haversacking and you did it.”

“I know what haversacking is, thanks, and I didn’t do it. My hand clearly left the Quaffle before-

“Mama!” Her youngest daughter cried, spotting her in the kitchen. “You’re home early.”

Kiya offered hugs and kisses to Lei and Peng as they came around the kitchen island to greet her.

“What are you two arguing about?”

“He’s a cheating idiot who doesn’t know how to-

“Don’t listen to Lei, mama, she’s just bigheaded because she’s been offered a lower-level council position.”

Lei’s attention snapped to her mother and grinned. Kiya laughed pleasantly.

“Did you really, Lei?”

“I got the letter this afternoon.”

“We’ll have to find a way to celebrate, then.” Kiya smiled knowingly and nodded towards the pantry. Lei cheered and ran to it, pulling out a box of American brownie mix.

“Will you make it like the muggles do, then?” she asked her mother.

“I’ll certainly try.”

The Gobi Academy held their students accountable through an honor system – each incoming first-year attended the pledge signing, promising to act honorably and follow the rules during their time at the school. When an infraction occurred they were set before a council of their peers. There were three levels to the council – first and second year made up the lower level, third, fourth and fifth years made up the middle level and sixth, seventh and eighth years made up the top level. There were two spots in each level, making the positions highly prestigious among the school’s population of nearly fifteen hundred students.

“Where’s your brother?”

Peng rolled his eyes and hoisted his sports bag up on the counter, to which Kiya immediately raised an eyebrow. He quickly slung it back on the floor.

“He and baba got stuck talking to the Wangs.”

Kiya sighed and pushed two prepared fruit bowls towards her children and ran to the front window. Pulling it open, she stuck her head outside.

“Gao, I need your help. Hello Mr and Mrs. Wang.” She called across the yard.

The Wangs lived nearly a mile down the road but often took walks around quitting time to trap their neighbors into tedious conversations. Kiya and Gao had moved their family to the edge of the village for the purpose of raising their family privately, but this tactic hadn’t exactly panned out.

Mr. and Mrs. Wang waved cheerfully as Gao and Feng made their goodbyes and made their way into the house. Moments later the front door opened once more and Gao wrapped Kiya up in his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

“I worship you, my love.,” he teased. “I swear I don’t know what I’ll do if I have old man Wang tell me what to do about the ICW sanctions. It’s as if he doesn’t know my title. I have nothing to do about those sanctions.”

Kiya rolled her eyes and wriggled out of her husbands’ grasps.

“They’re just old, is all.”

Gao followed his wife into the kitchen, taking off his tie as they went.

“How did the muggle visit go today?”

Kiya shrugged, tucking the box of brownie mix aside for the time being. “The Chins were kind and docile enough. They’ll be easy to manage. The girl, Jun, was like they all are. Unwilling to believe but acting like she expected it all along anyway.”

“Wasn’t it the same for you?”

Kiya thought on it for a moment. “I suppose.”

Gao settled onto the third stool beside Lei and Peng, who were once again arguing about Quidditch.

“Who won today, hmm?” he asked, stealing a bit of pineapple from Peng’s bowl.

“I did,” Peng said proudly.

“He cheated. Haversacking, Dad, do you know what it is?”

Gao stared blankly at his daughter. He had never been one for Quidditch. “Not really.”

Lei sighed. “You’ll have to trust me, then, when I tell you that your youngest son is a no-good bag of disappointment.”

“I believe you.” Gao joked, rousing Peng at his side.

A loud bang came from upstairs in Feng’s room, but no one gave it any attention. There were often loud bangs and crashes within Feng’s room, but they had long given up hopes of discovering what the sullen eldest brother was up to. He was quite unlike the rest of the family – not outgoing and amiable, like Gao or Lei, nor was he outspoken and clever, like Kiya or Peng. They loved him all the same, of course, but because of it they kept a wary eye on him at most times.

The family passed the evening fondly with dinner and a rousing game of exploding snap – another thing Lei had become quite fond of during their last holiday trip to the States. Later, as they got ready for bed, Gao watched his wife brush her teeth as he leaned against the doorframe.

“What?” she said impatiently, brushing her back molars.

“I was just thinking.”

Kiya turned, still brushing. “About what?”

“This mess with the ICW, it isn’t going to go away peacefully.”

“Good!” Kiya spat into the sink. Gao frowned.

“Magical warfare between different wizarding states hasn’t been fought in over twenty centuries, and even then, wizarding states didn’t even exist. We were merely warring tribes. Kiya, this is so much larger than us.”

Kiya and Gao got into bed, each leaning on their respective pillows and facing the other.

“Did I ever tell you the first time I saw magic?” Kiya whispered, feeling secretive now that the lights were off. Gao shook his head.

“Alright,” Kiya snuggled closer to her husband. “I’ll tell you then. I was thirteen and Suri was nine. We were asleep, in our parents’ home in Zhuzhou. It was the middle of winter.”

Gao wrapped his right arm around his wife as she settled onto his shoulder. “Go on.”

“I woke up and I heard screaming outside, but it was happy screaming. There were these people – dozens of them – in the village square. They were doing fireworks and the lights were amazing – everything outside my window was red and orange. I have never seen such fireworks – but the people, they were more interesting than the show,” Kiya spoke slowly, her eyes lighting up with her memory. There was a softness to her face that rarely showed itself, and it was what Gao loved most about her.

“They were wearing masks. Terrifyingly interesting masks. And for a second, I didn’t question any of it. It was beautiful.”

“They were just practicing magic out in the open, for anyone to see? I imagine that was a nightmare for my office.” Gao joked, but Kiya remained serious.

“It was beautiful, for a moment. And then, all at once, I realized what was happening. They weren’t doing fireworks, they weren’t putting on a show. They were celebrating, and they were making the fireworks happen on their own, from little sticks. I realized that the rest of our family had to be awake as well and I ran into the hallway, but mama and baba were still asleep. The noise was becoming deafeningly loud and I thought maybe they were dead, but baba rolled over in his sleep. I went into Suri’s room, expecting her to be asleep as well, but she was crouched by the window, staring at them. Soon they disappeared, and I got Suri back into bed. I thought it was a dream for years.”

Gao traced the edges of his wife’s face sweetly as she looked up at him.

“It is a good memory, then.”

Kiya thought about it for a moment. “It was the almost-war, Gao. Sometimes, I think about it and I think that what we have against the other members of the ICW, it’s important. It must be. It was the first thing I knew of our world.”


	4. The Eight Families

Chapter Three  
Atlanta, U.S.A.  
September 1, 2017

Eloise English sat across the table from Charlie St. John, desperately wishing they could, for once, skip the dinner and eat out in the garden on their own. Eloise, with ivory skin and matching hair, was the exact opposite of Charlie, aesthetically, who had dark brown skin and black hair. Aside from their appearances, the two had been practically inseparable since a fateful play-date at the age of two.

“Welcome to the Feast of the Eight,” a one William Alden “it is a joyful occasion as we come to celebrate that the descendants of Salem live to see a new year!”

The table – extended to accommodate nearly sixty dinner guests – lifted their thin champagne flutes for the traditional toast. ‘To Salem’ echoed around the banquet hall followed by a smattering of clinks.

Eloise had been looking forward to one thing. After exchanging seductive smiles with Charlie and pressing their champagne flutes together, Eloise lifted the charmed champagne to her lips, savoring the bubbles as the liquid floated down her throat. Within minutes, Eloise felt the familiar floating sensation drift back up her spine and sighed happily, savoring the rare taste of rather expensive magical champagne.

“They’ve got nothing like this on the island, that’s for sure,” Charlie whispered across the table amidst a moment of chatter before the room fell silent once more. Eloise agreed.

The banquet hall’s interior was certainly another thing Eloise appreciated. High ceilings, heart pine flooring, classic beat-board walls. She found no fault in the traditional Salem architecture. Simple clean lines, dark engravings. She could feel the history just sitting on the centuries-old bench.

“It is my pleasure to introduce this year’s guest of honor, the St. John family. Armand?”

William took his seat and Armand St. John stood, towering over the other guests. He smiled warmly.

“Thank you all for inviting me and my family back this year. It is an honor to have an intimate relationship with such an important and respected part of the community. Here’s to another prosperous year.” William raised his glass to the group once more and everyone applauded warmly for the youngest Governor of Magic since the conception of the North American State of Magic.

Though the St. Johns had been in attendance at the Feast of Eight for four years now, since the year before Armand was elected Governor, they were not one of the Eight Families. The Eight Families were descendants of the eight individuals who escaped from persecution during the Salem Witch Trials – the only true witches involved in the entire spectacle, barring a few who had been quite unlucky, like the Proctors. The Eight Families were the foundation of Salem society in the East – that is to say, a wizard might say he’s from Salem, and someone else would reply: “Really? Which part? I’m from the Plains, myself”, the Plains being another general location and society like Salem.

The hierarchy of the families – though disputed to exist – followed the wealth status of the families back in 1692, meaning that the group’s structure hadn’t changed one bit in over three centuries.

The Aldens, who had been the wealthiest of the puritan families, had much more rank over, say, the Barkers, who hadn’t been as well-off. This rank was evident in even the seating arrangement at the yearly feast.

Glad for her position, Eloise spoke civilly with Charlie throughout the long dinner, shrouding insults of their company in poetic language and smiling slyly to signify intent. The two girls were as well versed in dinner-table espionage as they were in high-society gossip.

As the adults mixed in the parlor after the dinner and held their yearly meeting, the children (and in some cases, the grandchildren) gathered in the yard to hold court of their own. The eldest kids still in school fancied themselves Lords and Ladies of the Garden and played the part well. Eloise, ready to start her seventh and final year at the Salem Witches’ Institute, was mildly giddy with the authority.

“Alright, listen up,” Samuel Alden took everyone’s attention after they were settled on the garden benches. Eloise looked around and counted nearly twenty seven attendants. She stood at the front of the crowd with Samuel, along with Lydia and John Farrington, Catherine Frye, and George Bishop. The girls of the Eight Families attended at the Institute while the boys went to the Proctor School of Wizardry.

“We’ve got to do the voting, and then I suppose we’ll have time for announcements. Put your nominations in the hat.”

Samuel passed a hat around and everyone who was old enough to write put in a paper napkin they had stolen from the children’s table to write their nominations on. It was a revered tradition that had begun at least fifteen years prior. After the votes were all in and counted, Eloise had the honor of reading the results.

“Okay. So,” she paused, looking up at everyone, “drumroll? Thanks.”

“Get on with it, E.” Catherine complained.

“Fine! The award of the Most Bigoted Couple at the Feast goes to none other than the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bishop.”

The group cheered privately and spent the next few minutes mocking the older couple. The three Bishop children – George, Sarah and Timothy – accepted the small trophy with pride.

“We’d like to thank the group, our parents really deserve the award. They’ve definitely shown their true colors tonight and without your acknowledgement all of their hard work would be for nothing. Thanks!” Timothy, the youngest Bishop, gave the heartwarming acceptance speech.

It was a silly but well-loved tradition, making fun of the adults after the feast. The eldest children, in denial that they would soon be forced into the large parlor as an adult in the coming year, seemed to savor it the most.

“Any announcements?” Samuel asked as the group settled down once more. No one replied. Announcements did not happen often. “Great. See y’all next year, then.”

The kids then broke up into their usual groups, sorted by age for the most part. The seventh-years for sure claimed their own secret corner of the garden, covered in ivy and sweet-smelling grass and sporting a small fire-pit.

“Any new gossip from Salem?” Samuel asked as he produced a pack of cigarettes and lit one with the low flames in the pit they centered around.

The girls thought long and hard about it as he offered the cigarettes around the circle. While Salem and Proctor students saw each other throughout the school year, Samuel didn’t have a sister at Salem like the other boys in the Eight Families. His little sister, Beth, wouldn’t start for another year.

“We think Sarah Barker might have been pregnant for a while last year.” Catherine offered. “But if she was, it definitely wasn’t for long.”

George Bishop laughed. “Really? She’s in sixth year now, right?”

The girls nodded.

John Farrington spoke up. “It’s been boring at Proctor as well. We need something exciting to happen to send us off right this year.”

“Are y’all flooing off to Philadelphia in the morning?” Charlie asked the boys.

They nodded. The girls would be meeting at the Virginia dock early in the morning as well.

The night went on happily in the garden with few interruptions for the Lords and Ladies, who only left their corner once in search of more champagne. As they were leaving, George pulled Eloise aside, looking sheepish.

“Look, I wanted to apologize-

“Don’t worry about it, George.”

“No, really. What you heard about me – it isn’t the truth, I promise.”

Eloise looked warily at the blonde in front of her.

“I didn’t sleep with that muggle girl,” he clarified. “I only said it so the rest would think it.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you later, George.”

George Bishop watched with sad eyes as Eloise walked to the end of the path and hopped into her brother’s car.

“Were you talking to George, just then?” David English asked, glancing over from the road at his only sister.

“I was.”

“Are you getting along alright?”

“I guess.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

The two sped on into the darkness, staying silent for the rest of the drive.

__________________________________

Charlie St. John stared listlessly out the car window. It was a long drive home from Atlanta to Birmingham, and she didn’t know why her parents insisted on driving, not when they could all apparate now. Charlie didn’t even really mind the unsettling twisting feeling of it, and she definitely preferred it to the drive, but she supposed it was tradition to drive to the feast – showing off your muggle finest and all.

Armand St. John glanced back at her in the rearview mirror. “Are you happy to be going back to Salem in the morning, Charlie?”

Charlie flopped sideways onto the back seat, neglecting her seatbelt as usual. It wasn’t as if she even needed it for the safety charms the car had been manufactured with.

“I guess.”

Armand smiled at his wife, Jessa, beside him. Jessa reached a hand into the backseat, which Charlie took and swung playfully.

“We’ll miss you. I can’t believe it’s your last year.”

“Oh, I can.”

School had become very different for Charlie three years prior when her father was elected Governor of Magic to the American Democracy of Magic. Though she had already been at Salem, a social perk in itself, being the daughter of the Governor completely shifted her social status. Charlie, who at one time had been a very private person, now could not step one toe out of line (though she did it anyway) without her father knowing about it.

“Have you decided on the ADM course you’ll be taking after Salem?”

Charlie groaned. Her parents were dead-set on her immediately beginning a Government Trade Course after graduation and following her father straight into the ADM. Charlie’s aspirations were a bit different, however.

“Some friends and I plan on taking a bit of time off to travel first.”

“If your friends wanted to join up with the vampires would you do that as well?” Her mother scowled – Charlie could see it in glimpses, headlights bouncing off of her face as they passed on the road.

“If my friends wanted to join up with the vampires I assure you it would be because I suggested it. You raised a leader, not a follower.”

Armand and Jessa tried their best not to look amused, but their efforts were in vain.

It was nearing two in the morning before the St. Johns reached the Magic City limits. Birmingham, Alabama wasn’t a wizarding hub like Atlanta but what it lacked in population it made up for in attractions. Thousands of witches and wizards traveled each year to see the ancient muggle furnaces that the wizards now used to create aluminum and steel wands, mostly used by government officials and peacekeepers. Wood had always been preferred to any other material for wands in the west – but that was slowly changing with a renaissance in the field of alchemy.

Charlie climbed into bed the moment they arrived home, but felt that she woke up as soon as her head hit the pillow. Bright sunlight came streaming into her window and she rolled over, feeling quite unprepared for the day.

Her school trunk had been packed in the days prior – thank Merlin – and was waiting for her down in the living room. Charlie dressed quickly, grabbed a few last things from her room, and met her parents downstairs.

She gave quick goodbyes as she always did, never one for sentimentality. With a quick wave of her father’s wand the anti-apparition fields fell and Charlie disappeared with a twist and a pop, latching onto her trunk at the last possible second. The next time she opened her eyes she was standing on a boardwalk, the Atlantic ocean lapping up at the wooden stilts. Charlie spied the large white freighter at the end of the nearest dock, busy welcoming students aboard by the dozens. Charlie took one last look at the grey stormy waters and started towards the boat, ready to set out towards Salem on the Sea.


	5. A Morning Floo

Chapter Four  
Godric’s Hollow  
September 2, 2017

Ginny Potter set her coffee cup down onto the wooden breakfast table, absentmindedly stirring it with the repetitive circular movement of her index finger. The late-morning sun lit the room as she read and re-read the letter she had received in the morning post.

Dear Mum,

I’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw. The food was very good but the train ride was very long. James is being an arse as usual (I know, watch my language, but honestly there’s not another word for him) and I miss you already (but don’t tell anyone. You can tell Dad.) My bed is very comfortable and I think I’m going to like it here. I got the riddle into the common room right on the first try. It’s good that Rose and I have been reading Hogwarts: A History aloud all summer, I know a lot more about things than the rest of my class. Don’t tell Aunt Hermione she was right, though, because we’ll never hear the end of it. By the way, Rose is in Slytherin.

I’ll write soon,  
Albus

After the fourth or fifth time, Ginny set the letter down and slid it back into the envelope, leaving it out for Harry to read when he got home. She sat resting her chin in the palm of her hand staring out the kitchen window for a long while, wondering if she should call on Hermione or pretend that she didn’t know anything at all. At last, she sighed. There was no pretending with Hermione. Ginny stood up, walked to her kitchen fireplace, and threw some floo powder in to connect to her brother and sister-in-law’s residence. She kneeled down and stuck her head in.

“Hermione?”

“Coming!”

As Ginny waited for her best friend to enter the Weasley’s living room, Ginny looked around. Ron and Hermione’s house was a strange mixture of wizard and muggle. Moving portraits were hung amongst still ones, there was a piano but no ghoul to play it, and a clock that kept time next to a clock with the family’s whereabouts. The two worlds of muggle and magic rarely blended seamlessly, and Ron and Hermione were no exception, but everything had its place and that was the important part.

Hermione made her way into the living room and threw a large grey cushion on the floor in front of the fireplace to sit on. She was already dressed for work in a smart navy pantsuit, but with her came a floating basket of laundry apparently to be folded during their conversation. Ginny smiled.

“Have some work before work, why don’t ya?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m still playing catch up with the last of the kid’s summer laundry. Who knew they had so many clothes?” Hermione sniffed a particularly dingy t-shirt and scrunched her nose. “How do you get the smell of Quidditch out of clothes?”

Ginny shook her head. “You don’t. It doesn’t make sense that you get so dirty flying around in the air but it’s like you’ve been rolling in sweat and dirt. Before I retired from the Harpies I was buying new practice robes almost every week!”

Hermione smiled and started folding some shorts. “Are you missing it?”

“I adored playing professionally, you know that, but I’m enjoying my retirement as well. They’ll all be off to school soon and I’m sure I’ll be bored out of my mind, however.” 

Hermione nodded. “Isn’t it crazy, Gin? We’re in our thirties and we’ve got kids off at Hogwarts and we sit here in the floo with our coffees every morning talking about laundry.” Hermione slouched a little bit and shook her head at Ginny, brown curls bouncing around her shoulders. “I mean bloody hell, wasn’t it just yesterday that we became friends at Hogwarts?”

Ginny laughed. The topic was often marveled at between the two of them but the stupor never seemed to wear off.

Hermione shrugged. “I guess I’m just feeling anxious in general. I sent my first off to Hogwarts yesterday! That was rough. I know you’ve got two out there now, but this is much more difficult than I expected.”

Hermione finished the last of the folding and waved them all back into the basket. Why she didn’t fold them magically as well, Ginny didn’t know, but Hermione had many strange housekeeping rules that Ginny supposed came from growing up as a muggle.

Ginny leaned back out of the floo and took a sip of her coffee, leaving her hand in the fire to keep the connection. “Speaking of Rose, has she written you yet?”

Hermione shook her head. “Nope, but the post came in just before you called. Let me go see if there’s a letter in there.”

Ginny threw back the rest of her coffee and resettled into the flames while she waited for Hermione to come back, which she did, quickly, and with a letter.

Ginny let out a short breath of laughter. “Hermione! You haven’t even opened it yet and you’re already teary.”

The older witch wiped at her eyes. “I miss her, alright?”

Ginny nodded and waited as Hermione opened and read the letter. Hermione got to the bottom and looked up, her eyes wide.

“Ron’s going to be livid.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean you know? Did she write you as well?”

“No, but Albus included it in his letter. He’s in Ravenclaw.”

“Of course he is. There isn’t a mean bone in his body, I don’t know why he was so worried.”

Ginny squeaked in protest, “Hermione, you can’t talk like that now! You’ve got a Slytherin in the family!”

“It’s just so strange. I knew she could be rotten sometimes but I didn’t know she was cunning.”

“Is that the dictionary definition for a Slytherin?” Ginny laughed.

Hermione pretended to swat at Ginny with the letter. She sighed and looked at her watch.

“I’ve got about ten minutes until I’ve got to be at the ministry. Ron went out on a raid this morning so I think I’ll go in early and see if he’s at the office. He probably shouldn’t get this bit of news from hearsay. I know a couple people at the ministry who’ve got first-years as well.”

Ginny agreed. “I’ll talk to you later on then. Tell Ron I said hello! Are we still on for dinner?”

“Absolutely, I’ll expect everyone around six.”

“I’ll see you, then.”

________________________________

Hermione stood in her kitchen after she got home from work. She slid her heels underneath the kitchen island and flung her jacket and purse onto the hooks behind their back door. It had been a long day - a lot of paperwork and even more interruptions from her husband. Each time she had been close to closing an argument with her boss on a statute providing preferential treatment to pureblooded witches and wizards in regard to who could be the executor of an estate, which she had been researching for months, Ron had run in with his hands flying through the air.

“I just – Slytherin, Hermione! Our Rosie, a Slytherin. This is too much. I warned you! It’s all that reading she does! If you had let me drag her out to more Quidditch matches, maybe we wouldn’t be in this predicament!”

Hermione had handed out more unkind glares to her husband in one day than she probably had done in an entire school year back at Hogwarts.

Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter and rolled her head around her shoulders. She wasn’t worried about Rose at all, to be honest, and it frustrated her to no end that Ron was making such a big deal out of it. She glanced at her watch and then at the clock on the wall. Ron’s spoon had shifted from “work” to “travelling” and within seconds it arrived and settled on “home.” When Molly had first gifted a spoon-clock to her, she hadn’t been sure if she would enjoy it, but the clock had almost immediately proved her wrong. The very next morning she couldn’t find Rose, but after a coincidental glance at the spoon-clock which read Mortal Peril she ran up to the attic and found the window to the roof wide open, which was a place that Rose particularly liked to go to get into trouble. Of course, she was fine, but the clock seemed to understand her motherly sensibilities.

“Hermione?” Ron called as he walked in the back door. “Oh, there you are.” He walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. After drying, he loosened his tie and leaned his back against the sink. Hermione gave him a small, tired smile before closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. He pulled her closer and clasped his hands together against the small of her back, blowing at a lock of brown hair that was resting against his nose.

“My mum’s changed her mind again.” Ron said, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

Hermione’s icy reply was muffled against his body. “What?”

“She and Dad have decided they’ll come round for dinner after all.”

Hermione groaned, and without looking, fumbled around the countertop for her wand and grasped it, flicking it towards their refrigerator. Out came frozen chicken breasts and vegetables and other ingredients for their dinner. “Don’t say a word. I’m cheating.” She looked up at Ron, who rolled his eyes.

“Using magic isn’t cheating, Hermione. I know very few wizards who use magic as little as you.” Ron shook his head and Hermione glanced up to catch a small glimpse of a younger, exasperated Ron that she used to know flicker across his face in his expression. She smiled, and shrugged, standing up straight and pulling her apron from the shelving underneath the island.

“Magic shouldn’t be a crutch!”

“I know, I know.” Ron said as he began unbuttoning his shirt on the walk upstairs to change.

Two hours later, Hermione opened the door to their arriving guests. Molly Weasley came in first carrying two pies and bag of presents, followed by Arthur, Ginny, Harry, and Lily. Hugo, Hermione’s youngest, grabbed Lily by the hand and the two of them sprinted out into the back yard.

“Hi Hermione.” Harry said with a grin, clasping her on the shoulder. She greeted Harry and Ginny with a kiss on the cheek before rushing back to the kitchen, yelling something about burning a rue. Molly, Harry, and Ginny joined her in the kitchen while Arthur and Ron took a bottle of scotch and a newspaper out to the back deck. For Christmas, Hermione and Ron had given Arthur a subscription to various “monthly” muggle clubs. There was a “Dinner and a Movie a Month” club that took him and Molly out on the muggle town once a month as well as a “Scotch of the Month” club, deciding to tell Arthur that knowledge of dark liquors was the mark of a fine muggle man. Arthur brought one of his monthly bottles to every social event he attended.

“Do you need any help, dear?” Molly asked, already checking in on the roasted potatoes in the oven.

Hermione shook her head, “We’re all good, Molly, everything’s about done.”

“Are you sure? Those potatoes look a bit pale…”

“Mum!” Ginny scolded. “Let Hermione alone in her own kitchen!”

Molly moved to start setting places at the table. “Oh, Ginny, she knows I didn’t mean– Hermione, I’m sorry if I offended you, dear.”

Hermione laughed and shook her head as she scooped gravy into a dish. “Don’t worry about it.”

Everyone decided to carry their dinners out to the back porch and called Lily and Hugo up from the yard, where they were playing near the pond.

“Hugo levitated a rock,” Lily announced as she sat down in her chair and speared a roast carrot with her fork, “but then he dropped it on a squirrel. It was a big rock.”

“Hugo!” Hermione spun around to scowl at her youngest son. “Why on earth-

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to, ‘Mione.” Ron said, his mouth full of chicken.

“Alright, you do some parenting for a change! Go on, let’s see it then!” Hermione said as she sat down, accepting the water that the pitcher had poured into her glass.

Ron finished chewing his chicken, and, still gripping a fork and knife, rested his forearms against the table and turned to his son. “Hugo,”

“Dad,”

Harry snorted in amusement.

“Your mother and I would rather you not do magic on purpose quite yet, or harm any animals in the process.”

“Okay.” Hugo replied, licking his spoon.

“Don’t lick your spoon.” Hermione snapped, glaring at Ron who simply smiled in return.

“So have you heard from Albus and Rose yet?” Arthur asked.

Ron dropped his silverware onto his plate and leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Oh, Rose.”

Harry snorted. “Ignore him, he’s just sore because Rose got sorted into Slytherin, is all.”

Arthur looked up from his plate wide-eyed before cutting into his chicken. “Did she really? Our Rose, a Slytherin?”

Hermione nodded. “That’s right, and Albus a Ravenclaw.”

Molly nodded “Well we all saw that one coming, we did.”

“But Rose, a Slytherin! Honestly, you lot, I don’t know how I’m going to face it! Not once in my entire Hogwarts career did I meet a Slytherin who was worth something. Not once.”

Harry shook his head. “You can’t let Rose hear you say that, mate. Not even once. Besides, you know that’s where the sorting hat almost put me.”

“And you had enough sense to tell it no!”

Hermione stood up from the table, grabbing her nearly untouched plate before marching into the house. “Honestly, Ron, I don’t know how you see at all with your head stuck so far up your own bloody arse.”

A thirty-seven year old Ronald Weasley slumped back in his chair, pouting and blushing as if he were his nine-year-old son that sat beside him. Lily looked, with the widest of eyes, around at the rest of the table.

“Oh, Aunt ‘Mione said a bad word.”

“Hush, Lils.” Ginny chided, barely hiding a grin. Ron stuck his tongue out at his niece, who responded with a roll of her eyes. He sighed, straightening up to finish his dinner, but not before glancing through the kitchen window behind him at his wife who was hastily eating dinner at the kitchen island, glaring daggers into his back.

________________________________

Later that evening as the group sat chatting in Hermione and Ron’s eggplant-colored living room, after Molly had given presents to Lily and Hugo (“Honestly, Mum, you spoil them.” “Honestly, Ginny, it’s my grandmotherly right.”), Ron looked up from the paper he had spent the better part of the evening sulking behind.

“Does anyone know what it is they’re talking about with the Chinese Magical Authority and the International Confederation of Wizards?”

“Oh are they at it again?” Arthur asked, keeping a steady pace in his rocking chair.

“Again?” Ginny asked from the hearth where she sat braiding Lily’s hair.

Arthur nodded. “What was it, Molly, late seventies would you say? When some of the eastern powers decided they wanted to wage a war with the members of the ICW?”

Molly, who was getting a head start on her knitting for Christmas (the numbers of sweaters in demand each Christmas had multiplied exponentially in the last decade), nodded in agreement. “That sounds right. A year or so before Ron was born, if I remember correctly. Thank goodness they called it off when they did, Merlin knows the Order was stretched thin enough just then.”

“Why’d they call it off?” Harry asked.

Arthur shrugged. “I suppose it had something to do with Voldemort’s rise to power. It was strange, though. It ended as quickly as it began. We sent intelligence over there and within weeks they were useless because the masses of witches and wizards that had been gathering all over the continent just dispersed.”

Molly’s knitting paused. “You know, I think Fabian and Gideon had just gotten back from Japan the day they were ambushed.”

Lily twisted her head around to look at her mum. “Who’s Fabian and Gideon?”

Ginny put a hair band around the end of Lily’s braid. “My uncles. They were heroes in the first Voldemort war. I never met them, I wasn’t even born yet.” Ginny softly popped her daughter on the head. “Pretty sure it’s bedtime, sweets.”

“Ooh.” Lily hopped up, leaning over to kiss her nearby aunt on the cheek and then making her way around the room to say goodnight to everyone.

“We’d best head out as well,” Arthur got up to help Molly up from the couch. “we’ve got an early start tomorrow, off for a visit at Shell Cottage.”

“Give Bill and Fleur our love.” Hermione said, walking her mother and father-in-law to the door and hugging them both.

“Thank you for dinner, Hermione. It was delicious.” Molly said as they walked out the door. The couple gave a quick wave and apparated from the sidewalk. Harry and Ginny soon followed, a suddenly sleepy Lily slung over Harry’s shoulder.

“Goodbye, Hermione!” Ginny called as they made their way down the pebbled walkway. “Floo over for tea any time next week.”

Hermione and Ron stood waving in the doorway until all that was left of their company was a soft crack and the faintest of winds.

________________________________

“As you’ll remember, the International Confederation of Wizards sees its roots in the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, which still exists today but it’s capacity as the largest and most important wizarding intergovernmental organization, or WIGO, has been taken over by the ICW. At the International Warlock Convention of 1289 delegates from the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, the Wizarding Society of the Gobi Desert, The Egyptian Coven, Manco Capac, and a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers met to discuss how global wizarding laws should be written and applied. Soon after the International Confederation of Wizards was formed, and finally in 1689 they signed their first major law, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, though it was not established until 1692. At the Warlock’s Convention of 1709, hosted by the International Confederation of Wizards but not within their congressional session, participants decided to outlaw artificial dragon breeding, both because dragons could not be tamed and because wizards with pet dragons would easily be detected by muggles. This was a direct effect of both the International Warlock Convention of 1289 and the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, despite the fact that those two events have around 400 years separating them.”

Victoire Weasley yawned into the palm of her hand while the Quick-Notes Quill that her Uncle George had designed specifically for her took notes from Professor Binn’s lecture. As one of only two seventh-years sitting for the NEWT level History of Magic exams, it was even more difficult to sit through the class without falling asleep than it had been in years past when there were more people to provide entertainment. As of now, it was impossible for Victoire and the other student to even attempt communication since Professor Binns had decided to create, in this small class, an “environment to better foster discussion” by sitting the three of them at a small, round table in his office rather than in the usual classroom. This was the only encouragement he provided, however, because other than forcing his students to sit knee to knee with a rather chilling spectre, Professor Binns lectured at his usual monotonous pace without breaking for questions.

Glancing at the other student across the small coffee table, Victoire rolled her eyes. It wasn’t as if she wanted to have any communication with Kip Sawley anyway.

Kip Sawley was a gawking monstrosity of a boy and always had been. He wasn’t unattractive, but he used his broad, square frame to his advantage in every situation possible, and was in fact quite rude and nasty. His mother, Lynette Sawley, had grown up with Victoire’s aunts and uncles at Hogwarts and they had small pleasant conversations in passing, but their small niceties had no influence on Victoire’s negative feelings towards Lynette’s son.

“The International Confederation of Wizards was at the core of the Wizarding Hemispheric Conflict of 1979. “Hemispheric” is a misnomer, as the conflict was mainly between Asiatic wizarding powers and the other members of the International Confederation of Wizards. Specifically, the Chinese Magical Authority and the Ministry of Indian Wizardry found major fault and offense in sanctions placed on them regarding their involvement in muggle’s creation of nuclear weapons. The muggle’s nuclear arms race was a wizarding concern as well as muggle, as many wizards took part in the creation of the first atomic bomb and the creation of legislation that followed afterwards. After very punishing sanctions were placed on wizarding China and India, they planned a physical response, amassing thousands of wizards in under a week’s time in locations such as Kyoto, Beijing, and Kolkata. The dark lord Voldemort’s rising, however, quickly stunted their growth as he and his followers showed an unmerciful growth of power in their weeks of planning. War was averted.” Professor Binns performed a shallow bow, signaling the end of his lecture.

At the end of the first week’s last History of Magic class, Victoire stood and hurried out of the classroom, almost knocking her Professor off of his feet, or she would have, had the laws of gravity applied to ghosts.

“Sorry, Professor!” Victoire called over her shoulder as she sputtered and dusted the feeling of ghost-chill off her am.

Professor Binns gave a short wave and disappeared through the back wall of his office.

“Vicky, wait!”

“Sawley,” Victoire grunted as she hoisted her heavy leather shoulder bag higher onto her shoulder. “I do not, and will never, reply to a name as common as Vicky.”

Kip grinned, catching up to her easily with his long strides. “Whatever you say, Vicky.”

“No!” Victoire quickly swung around, pulling out her wand and pressing it firmly into Kip’s chest as he backed away. “Do not. Call me that. Ever. Again.”

“Ms. Weasley.”

Victoire sighed and released Kip from her wand’s vice grip. “Hullo, Professor Longbottom.”

Neville sighed. “You can leave, Mr. Sawley.”

Kip grunted and continued down the hallway, glancing back at the two more than once on his retreat.

“Walk with me, Victoire.” Neville said, gesturing in the direction that would take them to the Great Hall.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Neville, but he’s a great git and I wouldn’t care if he-

“I know, Victoire, and as someone who knows you as a friend I applaud your response to the ‘great git’. But as your professor…”

“I know, I know.” Victoire huffed and fixed her shoulder bag once more. She really should have picked a lighter load this morning.

Neville clasped her shoulder as they stood at the doors of the Great Hall. “It’s your last year, Victoire, and as your Uncle, your Professor, your Head of House, and the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, I’m proud of you. But please, for Merlin’s sake, let’s have it be a peaceful one, alright?”

Victoire nodded. She hadn’t proved to be a rotten student yet, and she wasn’t going to start now, as long as no one gave her any reason to.


End file.
